‘Shut up and turn around,’ I told him. ‘And keep your hands in the air.’ The brown suit turned and then dropped his head back onto his shoulders in an effort to see beyond the brim of his hat.

‘You going to kill me?’ he said.

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether or not you tell me who’s signing your expenses.’

‘Maybe we can make a deal.’

‘I don’t see that you’ve got much to trade,’ I said. ‘Either you talk or I fit you with an extra pair of nostrils. It’s that simple.’

He grinned. ‘You wouldn’t shoot me in cold blood,’ he said.

‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’ I poked the gun hard against his chin, and then dragged the barrel up across the flesh of his face to screw it under his cheekbone. ‘Don’t be so sure. You’ve got me in the mood to use this thing, so you’d better find your tongue now or you’ll never find it again.’

‘But if I sing, then what? Will you let me go?’

‘And have you track me down again? You must think I’m stupid.’

‘What can I do to convince you that I wouldn’t?’

I stepped away from him, and thought for a moment. ‘Swear on your mother’s life.’

‘I swear on my mother’s life,’ he said readily enough.

‘Fine. So who’s your client?’

‘You’ll let me go if I tell you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Swear on your mother’s life.’

‘I swear on my mother’s life.’

‘All right then,’ he said. ‘It was a fellow called Haupthandler.’

‘How much is he paying you?’

‘Three hundred now and — ’ He didn’t finish the sentence. Stepping forward I knocked him cold with one blow of the revolver’s butt. It was a cruel blow, delivered with sufficient power to render him insensible for a long time.

‘My mother is dead,’ I said. Then I picked up his weapon and pocketing both guns I ran back to the car. Inge’s eyes widened when she saw the dirt and oil covering my suit. My best suit.

‘The lift’s not good enough for you? What did you do, jump down?’

‘Something like that.’ I felt around under the driver’s seat for the pair of handcuffs I kept next to my gun. Then I drove the seventy or so metres back to the alley.